Beyond the Sea
by rains-photography
Summary: Voldemort's younger days before he was Voldemort.  This is Tom Riddle's story, a boy who could never be loved.  It took the courage of one girl to help this battered soul, and in the end even she couldn't save him.  POV switching between Tom and Sara.
1. Prologue: Going to Hogwarts

Tom Riddle watched the door close behind Professor Dumbledore, and sat on the end of his bed, absorbing the information that had just been presented to him.

"Always knew I was special," he mumbled quietly to himself, as he absentmindedly shook his box of stolen goods. But, gosh, a wizard! He grinned. No more being stuck in this crummy, old dump they called an orphanage. No longer would he have to see the moronic faces of the kids here. No, he was a wizard. He was going to get an education.

Speaking of education, Tom looked down at the list of supplies in his hand and frowned. He was going to have to get these sometime soon. Better make it tomorrow. Tom wanted to get of here as quickly as he could. That means I'm going to have to ask _her_ if I can go out, he thought. No help for it. Sighing, Tom threw the box of stolen goods on his bed, and made his way to the stairs.

"Hello Amy," he murmured quietly to the little girl on the landing. Having been tormented by Tom last summer, she gave him a quick, acknowledging nod before shrinking hurried from his sight. Clicking his tongue at her rudeness, Tom made his way downstairs.

Mrs. Cole, the orphanage owner, lay sprawled on her cozy chair, obviously passed out from drink. Tom grinned slightly. So that's how Dumbledore had gotten the old woman to agree to him being sent off. Well, he'd just have to use her drunkenness to his advantage.

Prodding her hard, but not so hard that he'd get in trouble, Tom called her name.

"What? Blimey, boy, what do you need now? Can't a woman get her sleep?" mumbled Mrs. Cole, turning back over in the chair.

"Yes, Mrs. Cole," Tom murmured politely. No point in getting her mad. If he wanted to get something, he'd have to be polite with her. "However, I was wondering if I may go out tomorrow and get supplies for school. We are starting in a few days, ma'am."

Mrs. Cole rolled back over, took in Tom's slightly smiling, polite face, and nodded.

"Alright. But, hic, no more than two hours, boy. Off to bed with you. And, you too Amy!"

Caught in the act of snooping, Amy dashed away from the door crack, and back upstairs, most likely to tell the other girls that Tom was going away to a school.

After giving Mrs. Cole a smart 'thank you', Tom made his way back up to stairs and into his bedroom. The box of stolen items still sat on the bed, and he picked them up. As much as he didn't want to give them back, he might have to. What if Dumbledore didn't let him go to school if he didn't give them back to the kids? Shuddering at the thought, Tom put the box back in the wardrobe.

Well, he thought, he never said how I had to give them back. I'll just leave them in the downstairs coat closet on the floor. They'll find them eventually. Yeah, then he wouldn't have to apologize. And things got lost on coat closet floor all the time.

Feeling lighter than he had in months, Tom went over to the window, and opened it. Fresh air immediately rushed to fill the clean, but dreary room. Distant music sounded from someone's apartment. Straining to hear the lyrics of the far away melody, the music started to swell, and Tom could hear the music crystal clear.

It was that new artist's song, 'Beyond the Sea' by what was his name? Bobby Darin. His voice and the band started to fill the room, holding Tom to the spot for a moment, delaying his crawling into the bed.

_Somewhere beyond the sea. She's there watching for me._

_If I could fly like birds on high, then straight to her arms, I'd go sailing._

Tom grinned to himself at the flying line, and moved to tuck himself into bed. 'I wonder if wizards can fly?' was his last thought as he drifted off into sleep.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The old man had said that the building was around here somewhere. Tom frowned at the piece of paper in his hand. You're no help, he thought at the piece of paper, rather angry that he couldn't find the stupid building. Maybe I should have let the man, what was his name, Dumbledore help me after all.

No way, came another voice in his head. I don't need help.

"Shut it up there, all of you," Tom mumbled vaguely up to his head. Rubbing his forehead, he turned back to the piece of paper with the direction and took another look at it. Let's see. He took that left down by the post office, continued straight, took that right, oh! Tom smacked his head. He missed the turn at the coffee shop!

Jogging quickly back to the coffee shop, Tom rounded the corner, and took the turn that led him up to a rather shabby looking pub that he wouldn't have noticed had he not been looking for it. A sign in the window in scrawled, cramped handwriting read, "The Leaky Cauldron". Sighing with relief that he had managed to find the place, he pushed through the crowd of Londoners, none of whom seemed to notice the pub, and into The Leaky Cauldron.

The bells above the door jangled merrily as Tom walked curiously into the pub. So this was the world he belonged too. It wasn't much, the pub. It was rather dusty, the chairs and tables worn down from constant use from its wizard customers. Wizards. Just the thought sent a small shiver down Tom's spine. He was a wizard. Smiling slightly at the thought, he continued to take in the pub.

"Can I help you with something, lad?" a gravelly voice from behind him asked. Tom let out a small yelp, and turned around to see a man had appeared with a pop behind the counter. Tom narrowed his eyes.

"You weren't there a minute ago," it wasn't a question or a statement. It was fact.

"Nope! I had to nip upstairs real quick and check on a few things. Figured I'd Apparate back down. Name's Tom," the man held out a hand.

Tom cautiously shook the bartender's hand. "My name's Tom as well. What is Apparating?"

The barman chuckled. "Fancy, same name as me. Well Apparating, Tom, is where you disappear from one place and appear in another place, the place you want to be. Does that make sense?"

Tom's eyes widened. "Do I get to learn this?" he asked, barely able to suppress the excitement he was feeling.

The barman chuckled again. "Not till your seventeen, lad. You go to Hogwarts?"

Tom nodded his head quickly. "I'm starting my first year soon. I need to get to Diagon Alley for things." He waved a second piece of paper that had been tucked under the direction.

The barman nodded and gestured toward a door that seemed to lead out to a courtyard. "Back wall. Third brick from the left above the dustbin. Good luck at Hogwarts, Tom."

Giving the man a quick smile, Tom dashed out of the shabby bar, and into the courtyard. The back wall was a large brick wall, moss covering the bricks, a sign of how long it had survived. Tom vaguely wondered how long wizards had been hiding their existences from Muggles.

"Third brick from the left," he mumbled quietly to himself. "Ah ha!" Tom spied the brick he was looking for, and stretching his fingers so his little eleven year old body could reach the brick, he pushed in the brick.

Stepping back from the wall, Tom watched in wide eyed amazement as the previously brick wall opened up into an archway. Through the opening archways, Tom got his first real glimpse at what the wizarding world he belonged to was like.

Colorful shops with odd signs in them (Dragon's Blood: Half-off! One day only!, A wand for every witch and wizard! Ollivander's Wand Shop; "Get your fresh toad's eyes here!") lined the streets. Wizards and witches in robes of all colors (though black seemed to be the preferred color) walked around the streets, discussing anything from the rising price of eel liver ("It's just not right, Violet! They're robbing us!") to the problems in the Ministry ("One more exploding toilet, and I'm going to take things into my own hands!") to music ("Did you get the tickets for the Weird Sisters? I want to see them before I go back to school, Iv!").

Taking a deep breath, Tom stepped through the archway, and in to the world he knew he had belonged to since he was born.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

New wand tucked safety in his jeans pocket, Tom made his way with his trunk to King's Crossing. A different piece of paper in his hand, he pondered his way through the station, searching for Platform 9 and ¾. When he didn't see it between Platforms 9 and 10, he contemplated asking someone around him where it was.

Part of his mind sniffed. You don't need help. You're a wizard. He grinned. Yes, he was a wizard, wasn't he? And he would be a powerful wizard. He would study, he would work hard, and he would get respect.

And with any luck, he thought, I'll be in Slytherin.

"Slytherin is the house for the purest of wizards. There's nothing wrong with being in that house, but many a dark wizards have come out of that house," Ollivander had told Tom while measuring him for his wand. "Try this one."

"Powerful, dark wizards?" Tom asked, waving the wand that Ollivander had given him. Nothing happened with the wand, and Ollivander took it back.

"Yes, powerful. But, not in a way that you want to be. They enjoy torturing the innocent and Muggles. How about this one? 8 inches, Oak, Unicorn Hair." He passed another wand over to Tom.

Tom waved the wand idly, thinking about what Ollivander had said. Powerful was the main word he had latched on too. Slytherin. It stirred something in his memory as he handed the wand back to Ollivander. "Slytherin. Is there a snake in the house's symbol?"

Ollivander was pulling out all kinds of wand boxes, but on that comment, he paused for a moment and looked at Tom. "Yes, it is. Why do you ask?"

Tom couldn't contain his excitement. "I speak to snakes!"

Ollivander slowly pulled out a wand box. "Do you now, Tom? That's not a very common talent. Salazar Slytherin spoke to snakes. It's a trait that's normally only associated with the darkest of wizards."

Tom grinned. "I'm special?"

Ollivander carefully took the wand out of the box. "I suppose you could say that," he said slowly. "Try this one. Yew. 13 and ½ inches. Heart of a single Phoenix Feather."

Tom took the wand into his hand, and immediately he knew it would work. Waving the wand, a small snake shot out of the end of wand. Tom smirked as Ollivander darted the snake and hurried to disappear the snake with his wand.

"That'll be 30 galleons, Tom," Ollivander whispered.

Tom continued to look for Platform 9 and ¾ at the station. Hmm, he thought. What if, he cast a look at the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10. It was worth a try. Working his way to the barrier, Tom leaned nonchalantly against the wall, and felt himself slip through the barrier.

A steaming train and happy, teary families greeted him as he fell through the barrier. Sniffing at the sappy scenes in front of him, Tom made his way to the train, the Hogwarts Express he had heard one of the boys he passed call it.

On the train, he made his way to an empty cabin, and, after placing his truck carefully up in the rack, sat down, and waited for the train to leave. Five minutes passed, and the train started to slowly chug away from the platform. Smiling slightly to himself, Tom settled down for a long trip to Hogwarts.

A gasp came from outside the cabin, and a blonde long-haired girl shoved open the door to the cabin, struggling to carry her truck. "Is there room, I mean," the girl took a deep breath, set her truck down and started again. "Can I sit here with you?"

Tom allowed the girl a moment to squirm under his gaze, before breaking into an attractive, charming smile. "Of course! I can't let a fair lady sit there and struggle." Rising, Tom moved to help the girl with her truck. The girl shook her head and fought to put her truck up on the rack, without Tom's help. Tom stood, unhelpful, as he watched the girl try to put her truck up.

After a moment's more worth of great effort on the girl's part, the truck rested in the rack. The girl turned back to Tom, wearing a brilliant smile on her face, and held out her hand. "Sara Beckham. My dad works at a law firm. My mom's a librarian. First witch in the family." She beamed at the last sentence, proud of her accomplishment.

Tom looked at her suspiciously, and took her hand. "Tom Riddle. My mom was a witch. She died. Never knew her. Dad was a muggle, and personally, I'm glad I never met him."

Sara nodded, as if she understood. "He left her?"

Tom felt a familiar bubble of anger come up at the mention of his father, and swallowed it. Not now, he thought. I don't want to scare her off. She seems…nice enough. Stubborn, he thought with a fleeting grin.

"Yeah. Haven't heard from him since. And personally, I'm glad. Now, care to join me, Miss Sara?"

Sara rolled her eyes. "Just Sara."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Riddle, Tom," called Professor McGonagall, and Tom moved to accept the Sorting Hat. Placing the hat on his head, Tom sat on the stool.

_Tom Riddle. Named after your father were you?_

Leave my father out of this, Tom hissed at the hat.

_A sore spot, eh? No matter. You're a smart young lad. You'd do well with your new friend, Sara, in Ravenclaw._

I don't have friends. And I don't want to be in Ravenclaw.

_No? Well what do you want to be in, Tom? Slytherin? Oh, yes that would please you greatly to be in Slytherin. But, it would put you on a dangerous path, one I'm not sure you should be on._

No! I want to be in Slytherin. Please! I was told you would take my opinion into account!

_I am, I am. My, you know all the loop holes. You're very charismatic, Tom. You shouldn't use that just to advance yourself._

Can we stop the idle talking, please? Sort me already.

_Well, alright if you're sure you want Slytherin._

Yes! With all my heart!

_Okay. __**SLYTHERIN!**_

Tom rose quickly, took off the hat, and marched purposefully over to the hooting Slytherin table. Across the hall, little Sara clapped over at the Ravenclaw table. Tom gave her a tentative wave. She may not be all that bad, he thought. But I don't need friends. And he turned back to watch the rest of the first years sorted.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO


	2. Chpt 1: Jazz Night and Jealousy

I'm sending out my sincerest apologies for having taken forever to post this. I had to head back to school, and, honest be told, I was on one of the largest writer's block I've ever had on this story. It was so hard to figure out to where to go from there. But, I've finally got it so there will now be weekly updates! Hooray! I forgot my disclaimer last time too, but I don't own any of J.K. Rowling's characters or ideas. However, I do own the characters that I make up, so no stealing! Also, thanks so much to the people who have put me on their alerts already! I'm so grateful that people are taking an interest in this story. Please feel free to send me a review or anything really. I love feedback and ideas to make a story better. Thank you so much! Enjoy!

_You can dance-every dance with the guy  
Who gives you the eye, let him hold you tight  
You can smile-every smile for the man  
Who held your hand neath the pale moon light  
But don't forget who's takin' you home  
And in whose arms you're gonna be  
So darlin' save the last dance for me_

A rich alto, female voice, accompanied by a swirling piano and excitable trumpet player filled the _Three Broomsticks_ on a crisp, autumn day. The voice was coming from a particularly attractive girl, who looked about sixteen, standing by the microphone on the mini stage off in the corner of the pub. Her long hair, which, to people who knew her, was normally in a braid down her back, was piled up on top of her head, a few stare curls escaping free of the messy bun. She wore a body hugging wrap that dress that quite a few women would be tittering about how inappropriate it was for a girl her age afterward. It was a stunning effect, but her voice was what seemed to hold almost everyone in the pub captivated.

_Oh I know that the music's fine  
Like sparklin' wine, go and have your fun  
Laugh and sing, but while we're apart  
Don't give your heart to anyone  
But don't forget who's takin' you home  
And in whose arms you're gonna be  
So darlin' save the last dance for me_

The door in the bar opened briefly, cold air spilling in and chilling some of the people sitting at tables closer to the door. A boy with dark, almost black hair, slipped silently into the _Three Broomsticks_, grabbing a seat at a stool at the bar. The girl, who had noticed the boy's entrance, continued to sing; however, she made sure to flash him a quick smile.

_Baby don't you know I love you so  
Can't you feel it when we touch  
I will never never let you go  
I love you oh so much_

Grinning, she took the microphone off the stand, and proceeded to walk off the stage and around the tables.

_You can dance, go and carry on  
Till the night is gone  
And it's time to go  
If he asks if you're all alone  
Can he walk you home, you must tell him no  
'Cause don't forget who's taking you home  
And in whose arms you're gonna be  
So darling, save the last dance for me_

She worked herself around the tables strategically, so that she ended up right by the bar stools. She gave the boy another smile and a wink. "Hey you," she whispered quietly out of the mike in a brief break between the words. The boy returned her smile this time. "You shouldn't be focusing on me, Sara," he whispered back. The girl just smiled, and went back to singing and dancing around the tables. The boy shook his head at her sass as she made her way back to the stage

_'Cause don't forget who's taking you home  
And in whose arms you're gonna be  
So darling, save the last dance for me  
Save the last dance for me  
The very last dance_

_For me!_

Her voice hit the last note with the precision of someone who's been singing for a while. As the note echoed through the bar, applause burst out among the tables, and various calls for an encore started to rise up.

"Thank you for coming tonight everyone! I'll be back next week, as always." Everyone laughed. The girl smiled at the crowd and continued. "Tip bucket is over by the counter, feel free to put in some spare Knuts or Sickles into it! Thank you all! Have a good night!" A good natured moan went up among a few, followed by more cheers, as Sara made her way over to the bar stools.

"You were good tonight," the boy sitting on the stool observed. Sara playfully whacked him.

"I was more then just good! But, what more should I expect to get from a tone deaf?" She laughed, and took up a stool next to the boy. "Hey! Can I get a butterbeer on the house, Rosmerta?"

The owner, who was all the way on the other side of the bar, glanced over in Sara's direction and laughed. "Well, I guess I can spare a butterbeer for that stellar performance." Rosmerta grabbed a butterbeer off one of the shelves and hurried over to give it to the singer. Sara gave her a grateful smile.

"Thanks, Rosmerta."

"Anytime, love. Now you don't stay out to late or Dumbledore'll have my head!"

Sara laughed. "Of course. Wouldn't want to get you in trouble, would we?" And with that, she popped open her butterbeer and downed some of its contents. Having quenched her thirst at the moment, she turned to the boy sitting next to her. "So, what's up, Tom?"

Tom, who was also cradling a butterbeer, turned to his stool to face Sara. "Nothing much. Came to pick you up. Didn't think you should walk back by yourself." He gave her a steadying look as if to dare her to tell him he didn't need to walk her back.

Typical Tom, she thought. "Thank you. I'm glad you're thinking of me." She gave him an innocent smile, and took a swig of her drink.

Tom looked stunned for a minute that she wasn't putting up a fight on the matter, like she normally would. Though she didn't admit it to him, she was enjoying his recent overprotective nature. It was kind of cute and it made her feel like something special. He quickly recovered, also took a drink of his butterbeer, and glanced at his watch.

"Come on, we better get going. It's getting late."

Sara made a face. "It's not that late! And my fans!"

She gestured to a group of people who were attempting to catch her attention and motion for her to join them at their table. Tom shook his head.

"You know the rules Headmaster Dippet set for you having this gig. Come on."

Sara continued to pout for a minute, but finished her butterbeer. "Ever the prefect. At least give me a minute to talk to Gary." And, before Tom could protest Sara jumped off the stool and scurried back to the small corner stage.

Gary was on the stage, packing up his trumpet into its case, taking care to clean the instrument.

"Gary, what did you need to ask me?" Sara asked as she approached the guy. Startled, having been so absorbed in his packing (He really loved that trumpet, she thought fondly.), Gary straightened suddenly and reddened. His dirty blonde hair flopped in his face and he hurriedly shoved it away.

Two years older than her and a recent graduate of Hogwarts, Sara had found Gary through a friend, and there was no better trumpet player to help her with this gig. She was often surprised they had never really talked when they were at school together. Gary cleared this throat.

"Me and Rich were going to go to the Weird Sisters concert. You know the one next Saturday? Rich, he knows one of the stage managers and he got tickets. Wanna come?"

Sara stood there, flabbergast. The concert was sold out! It had been for weeks! But, Rich had gotten tickets?!

"Wha…what? Really? Did he really?"

Gary laughed at her growing eyes. "Yes, really. So do you wanna come?"

Sara could barely contain a squeal. "Do I wanna come? Of course I do! Thank you so much!"

Without thinking, Sara threw her arms around Gary and buried her face into his chest. "Thank you, thank you!" she mumbled into his chest.

"You're welcome," Gary whispered into her hair. "But, you better be heading back. My head might be taken off soon by your friend over there."

Sara released Gary to see Tom glaring at the two as they embraced.

"Meet you in front of here at 7, next Saturday," he whispered and gave her waist a squeeze. Grabbing his jacket and his trumpet case, Gary made his way through the crowd and out the front door.

Sara watched as he made his way out of the Three Broomsticks. Without meaning to, she turned her head a fraction of an inch, so she could see Tom's reaction. His face was etched with a dark scowl that she had sometimes seen him give to the kids he often hung out with. It was one of those looks that, if looks could kill, Sara would have been dead, brought back to life, and killed again. Looking away, an inadvertent shiver ran through her spine, and, like magic, Tom was at her side with her coat. His face was still angry, but not nearly as much as it had been a minute ago.

"What did he need?" Tom asked Sara as she slipped her slim arms into the jacket.

Taking a new, intense interest in the buttons on her jacket, Sara weighed her response. "Nothing really. He and Rich are going to the Weird Sisters concert next week and they wanted to know if I wanted to come. It's like…a band bonding activity."

Skepticism wrinkled Tom's nose, and Sara knew that her excuse had sounded lame. She knew that Gary was interested in her, and truth be told, she was kind of interested in him too. He was really sweet, and incredibly funny. She was, at points, even considering going out with him. If he asked.

Sara sighed and pushed open the door to exit the bar. White diamonds sprinkled across the inky black canvas of the sky. Sara pulled her jacket closer around her shoulders. The loss of the warmth of the bar was making her acutely aware of her clothing or lack of.

An extra weight dropped itself onto her shoulders. Tom's coat had joined hers to protect her from the autumn chill. Sara frowned.

"Tom, I don't need this," she insisted, struggling to remove the heavy extra layer. Tom shook his head and pace his hands on her shoulder, to stop her struggling and so she couldn't take the jacket off.

"You're cold and I'll be fine. Don't worry alright?" A gentle smile lit his face, a smile that was so different from the ones she saw him give to other people. Still slightly disgruntled but knowing that he wasn't going to give in, Sara kept the extra jacket on her shoulders. Both walked in amicable silence the rest of the way back to the castle.

Quietly, the two slipped into the back entrance of the castle and headed down the halls. Tom, ever the gentleman, insisted on walking Sara to the staircase that lead to the Ravenclaw dormitory, even though it was out of his way.

"Here," Sara stripped off Tom's jacket and held it out for him to take. He shook his head.

"Keep it for now. I'll get it back from you later."

Sara made an annoyed noise in the back of her throat. "Thomas Riddle, take your damn jacket back this minute!"

He couldn't help but grin at her tone of voice. "Yes, ma'am!" he said with a dutiful salute and took the jacket from her outstretched hand. "Night, Sara," and he leaned over to give her a brief kiss on the cheek. "Pleasant dreams."

"Night," she whispered back and made her way down the staircase, enough so that Tom could no longer see her. After slowly counting to three in her head, Sara ran back up the stairs and watched Tom's retreating back go down the hall.

"Sleep well," she whispered softly, so that Tom couldn't hear. Only when he turned the corner did Sara turn and head down the staircase. The eagle head knocker stood gravely on the door. Sara yawned. "Riddle?"

The eagle opened its beak and spoke, "Name something that can eat its fill, but will never quench its thirst without dying."

Sara paused and considered. "Do chemicals count for eating?" The knocker said nothing, which meant yes as the Ravenclaws had figured out. "Can it be fire?"

She swore the knocker smiled. "Well thought out for being so tired."

Sara smiled at the knocker. "Thanks," and the door swung open.

Finally realizing how tired she was and how late it was getting, she trudged her way through the common room and up to the girls' dormitory. There, she wiped her face and changed out of the scandalous dress and changed into one of her father's old oversized button-up shirts. It was very comfy and smelled of her father and home. Home, she thought with worry and longing. God, I haven't been keeping up with what's going on in the front. Have they been bombing London? Oh, God, what if they have been bombing? I haven't heard from Mom for a while. I need to send her a letter tomorrow. I can't lose her too; she thought desperately and hugged her father's shirt even closer. Stupid, not keeping in touch with Mom, being so wrapped up in studies. Sara mentally whacked herself. She's fine, stop worrying. Go to bed.

Climbing into bed, she shivered for a minute in the cold air of the dorm. As she pulled the bed covers over her, Sara found herself wishing for Tom's jacket.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Tom slipped his way into the dungeon with the password (Dragon's Heart) and made his way into the large common room. A couple of people knew, mostly his followers, were playing a game of Muggle poker with a twist. The loser of every hand had a curse put on them and could only have the curse removed if they won a hand.

"Come a hand with us, Voldemort," called a seventh year boy, who seemed to be one winning. There were no visible marks on him, unlike the girl to his right, whose face was riddled with purple pimples.

"Not tonight, Mark. I'm tired. Have fun though."

The pimple girl flashed him a smile, which Tom returned with a blinding, charismatic smile. He could literary see her heart skip a beat, so much so that she started bleeding her cards. Mark glanced nonchalantly at her now viewable cards.

Tom snickered and made his way up to the boys' dormitory. There, he stripped off his clothes and went to go take a shower. The warm water helped him relax and catch up with his thoughts from the evening.

He didn't like how that Gary character had been looking at Sara. What gave him that right?

"Calm down," he murmured to his head. "You aren't allowed to control who she hangs out with." But, he wasn't sure if he would be able to restrain himself if she started going out with Gary. It had always been that way.

Sara, he knew, was one of the most attractive girls in the school. She even had seventh years declaring their love for her. It was hard for Tom to control himself around her boyfriends. When he had released the basilisk, he had tired to kill one of her boyfriend's that had been abusive to Sara. He hadn't succeeded in killing the boy with the basilisk, so he made sure that poison was slipped into the boy's drink at St. Mungo's. Sara had been so miserable with that boy; he had been so cruel to her, that he deserved it. Tom wouldn't stand for anyone hurting Sara.

Sighing, he stepped out of the shower and dried off. Forgoing a shirt, and throwing on only a pair of pants, Tom laid down in bed. As he slowly drifted off, Tom briefly wondered if Sara was seriously considering going out with Gary.


End file.
